


Maybe Not Tonight

by Sundance201



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre and Post Reichenbach, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundance201/pseuds/Sundance201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates aren't all they're cracked up to be - especially when one's soulmate is Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Not Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This particular fic is inspired by the beautiful Glen Hansard song of the same name. I highly recommend it! Also, this is my first time writing a soulmates fic, so I'd love to hear what you guys think of this new endeavor! Hope that you enjoy!

She always expected everything to be easy once she’d found her soulmate. She remembered her mum showing her the words written on her arm and telling Molly about how everything just felt right with her dad from the very first moment. She made it sound so romantic. 

Molly’s words were faint, but they were there. Her mum assured her that many words got darker with age and that it had nothing to do with the quality of connection or any other silly thing that Molly had been afraid of. Her words always gave her mum a laugh – _I need to see the body of Lloyd Hendrickson_. She would wonder what words could possibly be written somewhere on her soulmate’s body in response to that. 

The first time that Molly thought that maybe soulmates weren’t the perfect, romantic notion of her childhood was at her mum’s funeral. Seeing her dad so devastated made Molly wonder if the joy of having a soulmate was worth the pain of losing them. But she stayed hopeful and looked forward to the day that she met hers. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Of course it would happen on her first day of work at St. Bart’s. And of course it would be him. A man came stalking into the morgue, briefly examining her and then he said those fateful words, the words that she’d been waiting to hear for her whole life. 

“I need to see the body of Lloyd Hendrickson.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered with wide eyes and waited for a sign of recognition from him. 

But nothing happened. He simply quirked an eyebrow at her and then narrowed his eyes, his gaze once more sweeping over her. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as she shook her head and then turned to the drawers, looking for the one marked with L. Hendrickson. 

She silently prepared the body and stepped back, watching as the man – her soulmate – walked around the body and examined it. At one point, he called her over and asked for her opinion of a strange mark on the body. He seemed to hum his approval once she’d answered him, but didn’t actually say anything. 

After a few minutes, he stepped back and drew out a card from his coat. “The name is Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hooper. You appear to be far more skilled than the last pathologist on staff. I’d prefer to work exclusively with you.”

She knew that she was staring at him like an idiot but she couldn’t help herself. “How did you know my name?” she questioned, blushing as soon as she realized that she’d actually said that out loud. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced pointedly at her lapel. “Your nametag. Molly Hooper, specialist registrar.”

She giggled nervously and wrapped her left arm around her waist in a comforting gesture, her fingertips brushing against the spot on her ribs where her words were - the words that had come out of this strange man’s mouth. His eyes flickered to the hand on her side briefly, but soon returned to her face. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the card that he offered her. “Text me with your number. I may need you on call,” he said. And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of her morgue. 

She stumbled back against the slab and reached backwards to steady herself. She’d just met her soulmate…and he seemed to have absolutely zero interest in her. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The first time he saw her words, he was staying at her flat after jumping off the rooftop of St. Bart’s. He’d burst into her bedroom while she was changing and she’d shrieked, pressing to her chest the shirt that she’d just pulled off. But he wasn’t interested in her chest (of course he wasn’t, the cruel voice in her head stated matter-of-factly). His gaze zeroed in on the words that adorned her side, definitely darker than they had been when she was younger. 

He moved slowly towards her and Molly held her breath as his fingers reached out and brushed across the words. “You never said,” he whispered, his eyes still locked on her side and his fingers tracing the letters. 

“You never seemed interested in soulmates,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to push. Seem like I was forcing something on you.” She bit her lip and then took a deep breath, finally asking him the question that she’d been wondering about since they first met. There had been a few cases of unrequited soulmates, but they were very few and far between. “Do you…where are yours?”

He broke out of his seeming trance and his hand dropped as he looked up at her face. “My inner thigh.” He shrugged. “Lots of people say ‘oh my god’ when they first meet me. I’d always assumed that one of them was my soulmate and they’d decided that they were better off without me after they’d actually met me. I’ve been told I’m insufferable.”

Molly let out a choked laugh and turned towards him, dropping her shirt down on the bed so that her hands were free. She tentatively reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling as Sherlock’s eyes fell shut at her gentle touch. “Is this why you helped me?” he whispered, his eyes still shut. 

“Maybe?” she said. Sherlock’s eyes opened and he focused completely on her. “But Sherlock, my feelings for you and knowing that you’re my soulmate…they go hand in hand. The way I feel for you is a part of me. I can’t change it.”

“Would you want to?” he asked seriously. 

Molly was surprised, but she knew her answer immediately. She shook her head. “No. No, I would never. I love you, Sherlock.” He stepped towards her and brought his hand up to her cheek, mirroring her caress. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. Molly smiled and let her eyes fall shut, breathing in the scent of him, still a bit in awe that he was standing in front of her, warm and alive. 

“I love you too, Molly,” he whispered. Her eyes popped open and she stared curiously at him, but Sherlock’s eyes were shut. Molly’s thumb stroked his cheek lightly and he hummed under her touch. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When he returned from dismantling Moriarty’s network, he invited her to move in with him at Baker Street. She assumed that all the hard work was over – she’d found her soulmate and finally, he’d expressed that her feelings were reciprocated. But looking back, she was naïve for thinking that actually being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes would be the easy part. 

It had started out well enough. She’d been deliriously happy that he’d returned to her safe and sound and he’d seemed somewhat relieved to discover that her feelings for him hadn’t waned. They’d been a surprisingly normal couple for a few months. It was nothing that she had expected and everything that she had longed for. 

But eventually it started to fall apart. She wasn’t even sure how it started, but she wasn’t surprised. Sherlock Holmes wasn’t exactly known for his healthy personal relationships. They’d become one of those couples that would break up and then get back together every few months. Everyone close to them wondered why they didn’t just move on – no one knew about the words that decorated Sherlock’s thigh, or the corresponding ones on Molly’s ribs. Sherlock had insisted that their soulmate status not be public knowledge, for her safety and his. 

Once the soulmate bond was consummated, it was nearly impossible to sever. They couldn’t be separated for long amounts of time, unless they were both taking a drug that dulled the separation sickness that plagued them. One always knew where the other was and there was a certain amount of an empathetic connection between the two of them. Molly knew that Sherlock sometimes found it a distraction from the work. 

He’d been away on a case for a few days in Ireland, and Molly hadn’t been as fastidious about taking her medication as she knew she should have been, so she was feeling a bit out of sorts. She was curled up on their bed, hugging a pillow to her chest when she heard Sherlock running up the stairs. 

“Molly?”

“In here,” she called out. She heard him shuffling around in the living room briefly before he came into the bedroom. 

He regarded her carefully before coming to sit next to her. He reached down and tucked her hair behind her ear. She smiled softly up at him. “Bad day,” he stated certainly and she nodded. “I have some news that might cheer you up; Mycroft told me today that the first successful soulmate separation has occurred. Last year, 100 couples underwent the separation and so far none of them are suffering any of the ill effects that afflicted the past trials.”

Tears burned at the back of Molly’s eyes and she closed them tightly, shaking her head. “Sherlock, that’s not…I can’t talk about that. Not right now.” Her voice caught and she pleaded with her body to keep it together for just a bit longer. 

She felt Sherlock shift as he stretched out beside her, removing the pillow from her chest and gathering her close. “Why would you think that would make me happy?” she whispered. She was curled around him, her lips brushing against his shoulder. 

“I just thought…it’d make your life easier, wouldn’t it? You’d be free to do as you liked; you wouldn’t have to be tied to me.” 

Maybe he was right. Maybe it would just be easier to cut their ties. She could move somewhere – Switzerland or America maybe. Sherlock Holmes could just be another chapter in her life. But the knot in her stomach that had been growing during the past few days was rapidly dissipating the longer she was in Sherlock’s arms and she knew that she’d never feel like this with anyone else. They went through so much heartache for one another, but it made moments like this all the sweeter. 

“I want to be tied to you, Sherlock,” she murmured, intertwining their legs so they were even closer. He kissed the top of her head as she burrowed her face against his neck. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he confessed quietly into her hair. Molly grinned and kissed his neck before turning her face slightly in order to look at him. “I’m sorry it was me. I’m not fit to be anyone’s soulmate.”

She wiggled backwards a bit, lessening the strain on her neck as she looked at him. “You were meant to be mine, Sherlock.” Her hand came up to his cheek, just like it had that night in her flat after his fall from St. Bart’s. “Never doubt it.”


End file.
